


honeybug

by atsumoose



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/M, Haikyuu!! Manga Spoilers, Mentioned Sawamura Daichi, Protective Sawamura Daichi, Sawamura Daichi in Love, Sawamura Daichi's Thighs, Team Dad Sawamura Daichi, Top Sawamura Daichi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:48:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27642982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atsumoose/pseuds/atsumoose
Summary: ⤥ in the exact moment the aurum shine of the sun daubs the argentum glory of the moonlit sky, the sawamuras begin a new day.• sawamura daichi x f!reader• 3.4 k• warnings : none
Relationships: Sawamura Daichi & Reader, Sawamura Daichi/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 21





	honeybug

the lulling quiet that twines along the preface of early morning is boundlessly dispersed around your master bedroom. the silence is obtruded by the augmenting tone of the chirping alarm that was set on your cellphone. 

a vague stream of lukewarm sunlight spouts into the room from beneath the white silk cloth of the curtain. its trajectory seems to have been manipulated to intentionally pierce the skin of your cheek. the ray of the sun leaves a faint red spot where it hit you, towing you out of sleep. your hand instinctually flees to rub the quiet, red spot materialised on your cheek. then, you knead open your eyelids.

it’s rather early on a sunday morning with the needle of the clock still a fleeting moment away from striking a decent digit. you were peacefully nuzzled under your quilt in the hallowed warmth of the soft mattress just seconds prior to the intrusion.

you take a look at the clock that’s been biting into the grey painted wall of your bedroom for roughly five years now, and it’s just six. when you shift your eyes to the window, you see the sun has already begun steadily rolling into the premise of the night sky to coat the silver moonlight splattered across into glazing shades of yellow, tainted with wisps of orange and red.

your hand mechanically shifts and paces out of the comfort of your quilt to grab your cellphone to switch the strident electronic device to snooze.

you groan, then shift your body weight to the right before pulling up the descended quilt. you plan to plunge into moments of supplementary slumber before the disturbing sound of the alarm interlopes your encompass once again. but you are cut short of your reverie when the smell of dripping honey and perhaps, freshly fried pancakes surfaces in the peripheral space of your room.

you can’t take a concrete guess about exactly what’s cooking in the kitchen this morning. it warrants to your dopey state. your senses haven’t yet been refurbished to begin a new day.

granted, you’d very much prefer to ignore the delicious smell rippling around you and just experience a freefall right back into the state of sleep, there’s rarely an effective method you can wield to ignore the mouth-watering aroma that sneaks into your bedroom every sunday morning.  
—  
it’s a little premature to begin a sunday at six. but daichi sawamura, your better half, is a man of austere discipline. to daichi, each day in his transitory life is a posit of prudently planned events that follow unco particular timings. weekday chores in the sawamura household faultlessly begin at half past five. 

weekend chores tend to receive a headstart when the clock purveys six. there’s no known anomaly that disconnects your husband from his disciplinary stratagem. you’ve tried to chide countless excuses and vacous reasons to delay the start of the day, but daichi sawamura is opposed to your endless squalled prattle.

“it’s sunday, dai-chan. it’s supposed to be our day off.” you squeak on a regular basis with brows stitched into one and a pout twinged on your lips. daichi plainly rolls his eyes, then heaves a brief sigh before bowing you out of the bed.

and no, the squeaky clean puppy eyes have never cast the perfect spell on officer sawamura. he’s unflapped by your suckhole of ventures against his strict routine.  
—  
“ugh, smells good.” you mumble, wresting your quilt closer to your body and pressing it onto yourself to extract some excess warmth.

with eyes stitched close and the quilt drawn to proximity, the next fifteen minutes should pass by swiftly in the secluded state of slumber. 

except, officer sawamura makes it a point not to avail anybody to switch the alarm to snooze. he prefers waking up in the exact moment the first bell of the alarm begins to ring. he rarely plods for the successive melodies to begin busking, unless either of you’ve had a tough previous day at your workplace.

you’ve known it from the very moment your alarm rung. daichi’s currently trooping in the direction of your bedroom with heart set on tackling you out of the bed, then, to lovingly coerce you to begin yet another day.

the love you’ve come to cherish alongside daichi wanders beyond the bookish elucidation that strings of connected dots in the night sky can concur. you might even go as far as calling your love for him as unearthly. here you are, five years into the social construct of marriage alongside him, still as deeply and madly in love as you were at eighteen. 

there’s several aspects of either of your lives that have transformed into something new since then, no doubt, except the way your heart wilfully alters it’s beat to match the rhythm of his own.

but the pragmatic routine he’s come to accept has been endowed alike muscle memory inside of him. this often ticks you off. but in the end, it’s sawamura daichi. he knows a thing or two about the elements and consequences of balance and it’s counterpart, and he knows how to strum the flow of the two in unison.

he sets errorless limits to his prudent plans, never makes a compromise on your family’s comfort in the true sense and wields a softer stance when he puts you up to follow his methodologies. those, you suppose, are the several qualities possessed by daichi that put you to ease. 

you’ve never been the kind of a person who sticks to a strict routine. your ideal way of working is to cling to a string of spontaneous plans deduced on spot. daichi sawamura, on the other hand is a stark contrast to your untimely bursts of energy. he’s composed and true to the tiniest bit of detail. you aren’t.  
—  
“honeybug, good morning. it’s time to wake up.” daichi’s voice inflates as he closes the distance between the kitchen and the bedroom. 

“ugh, too early.” your sound wavers muffled and inaudible to your better half, who’s already standing outside the bedroom door. 

“sorry honeybug, i didn’t quite catch that. care to repeat?” daichi swiflty ajars the door to your room. his sedated movement spares the squeaking sound that usually accompanies the opening of the door. 

he lightly leans against the bedroom door, careful not to plunge his entire weight onto it, and extricates a brief look at you. he proceeds to open the door to completion. his movement, still sedated and gentle. as one final step, he links the door to the stopper. he then saunters into the premise without abruptly severing your slumber. 

“lovebug?” the tone of his deep voice whirls in the proximity of your ear. it seems he’s acutely vouching for your regard. 

“ugh, sweetheart, it’s too early. care if i catch another fifteen minutes of sleep?” you speak a little louder than your previously wielded volume. you still sound too muffled for your words to be thoroughly audible. your voice stands deep and leaden as consequence of heavy sleep. 

but daichi sawamura elucidates your spoken words pretty much verbamit, just like he’s effortlessly done the deed before on numerous other sunday mornings in the sawamura household. 

he’s heard you chirp the similar excuses a thousand times before. the memory of each spoken jabber rests permanently stitched inside the depths of his head. a set of few distorted words is enough for him to know exactly what you want to convey. 

daichi sawamura knows you a little too well to let your words, distorted or otherwise, falter into misunderstanding.  
—  
“honeybug, you know that’s not allowed.” daichi’s arms cross against his bosom and he shakes his head to the sides with his lips puckered in, proffering his denial. 

“sweetheart, come on, please.” you plead and sink your head deeper into the duvet and pull the quilt a little closer to your form, yet again. you press it closer to your body and drown your body even deeper into the mattress. 

“honey, come on. we don’t need to do this all over again now, do we?” daichi sighs and takes a few steps in your way to dispose himself closer to you. 

it’s routine etched into sunday mornings with daichi tailing you to start the day early. following his sheer effort is your lament of denial. 

you suppose you never get used to certain recurring events in life no matter the umpteen times they stride past your day to day routine. 

sunday mornings in the sawamura household are a repetitive legacy neither of you can acculturate your praxis to. but that’s alright, as you’ve known for so long. 

sunday mornings, however, are also symbolic to the love you’ve grown to share. they’re smothered in raw passion and life’s realism. so they easily work out and fit in quite errorlessly with the members of your tiny family.  
—  
“daichi, babe, please?” you gently hurl the quilt off of your head and rise up a tiny bit before propping your backbone against the set of pillows to face your husband. 

“just fifteen minutes more. . .” you yawn. you hand covers you mouth as you fall deeper into the swarm of soft cushions that’s placed behind. you’re midway to closing your eyes and crashing to sleep once again when you hear daichi say something to you. 

“no, y/n, my beautiful honeybug, it’s time to get up.” daichi, for once, completely closes the distance between him and the bed. he flumps down to take a seat on your side of the bed. 

“daichi, don’t be like that. please, my love.” you glare at him, pretty intensely, wielding the best spell of puppy eyes you have up your sleeve. but nada, daichi only sighs in response and subtly swings his head to his sides to say no. 

you sigh, then shrug to admit your defeat. your timid response is met by a baleful laugh that daichi pulls off marvellously.

you roll your eyes at him before sticking out your tongue. he laughs, yet again, softly and gently. crinkles, in a miscalculated step sequence, materialise on the sides of his eyes. the dark floating around the room lightens when the sun completely rolls up. you suppose, it’s also daichi who happens to be the source of this refreshing light. honestly, you’re pretty sure it’s him, so you continue to admire him with gentle e/c eyes.  
—  
his fingers unsolicited begin to caress your cheeks. once. twice. thrice. then their motion adopts a rhythm crooning the melodies of infinite love. 

the ends of your mouth twitch into a light smile and just like that, daichi follows too. when he sees your face light up in a sort of bubbling rhapsody, he can’t help but grin at the holy sight forefront him. he then leans in to leave a fuzzy, light peck on your forehead. 

“i love you, dai-chan. so so much.” your right hand cups his left jowl. you vaguely pull at his cheek as display of affection. daichi resorts to fall into a titter, pulling himself closer to your figure.

“i love you too, y/n sawamura. beyond words.” he pulls you into his embrace, separating the upper half of your body from the hoard of pillows it was swamped in mere moments ago. 

you proceed to drape your quilt around him and take hold of his arms to support your weight. “oh my god, dai-chan, we’re so cheesy.” you giggle at your meek exhibit of passion. yet again, daichi’s laughter follows your own. he mizzles you with forehead kisses while you bask in a hearty giggle. 

on days and nights alike, daichi sawamura’s cassette of endless love fuels your life form. there’s a light you believe will never cease to burn bright, and it’s simply the love you bear for him and he eloquently, willingly returns. 

“well, y/n, let’s get out of the bed now. okay?” daichi asks as he cups your face. you nod a yes when he presses a brief kiss on your lips. daichi tastes like love (like he always does) and hints of honey that you smelled when you woke up. 

your lips separate, then you speak in a sing song tone. “mhm.”  
—  
“is hitori awake yet?” you ask, cloaking your body against daichi’s buff arms. 

“no, but it’s time our baby boy wakes up too.” daichi remarks, pointing to the clock. “but first, we need to get mama out of the bed, don’t we?” he chuckles, gently swaying you to the sides, humming the tune to some song. 

“you needn’t worry. hitori’s mama is awake, dada.” you mumble with your face burried in the crook of his neck. “you didn’t let her sleep again, dada. bad dada” you mockingly dab his shoulder and daichi rolls his eyes, purely sardonic.  
—  
“mama? dada?” 

the voice a child lugs you away from the brief moment of fuzzy intimacy you were indulging in alongside your husband. 

you spot your three year old toddler standing at the door with a small quilt draping off his shoulders. the black crow plushy uncle sugawara gifted him a couple months ago is his loyal companion for the day. he rubs his eyes and there’s visible drool trickling down his globose jaw. 

you and daichi exchange a funny look before bursting into a string of chuckles in unison. the tune of your laughter is doused with love and warmth as you watch the little guy look at you. he innocently flickers a puzzled look at his parents couped together in their bed.

“yes, baby. come to dada and mama.” you speak softly, slanting away from daichi’s figure to unfurl your arms to invite your toddler into the cage of your embrace. 

he jogtrots your way with his soft companion tagging along and his quilt unfolds in the process, pressing to the carpet on the floor. he almost trips over himself and daichi is ready to sweep him into his arms to prevent the abrupt descent, but the little man is glib enough to balance his body. daichi and you huff in relief. 

hitori climbs up the bed steadily, tugging onto the clefts of the mattress. he reaches out for you and you pull him closer fluently.

“hey, little guy, good morning to you.” daichi coos at your son while you prop him onto your pair of folded legs, lightly holding his tummy to support him. 

you signal daichi to grab a single baby wipe from the packet perched on your bedside table to wipe off hitori’s dripping drool. daichi shifts in his position to take hold of the box of wipes and hands you one. you clean the toddler’s face while he continues to subtly jump and babble in your soft hold. 

“hitori, what do you answer to dada when he wishes you good morning?” you lean down a little, until you’re positive hitori can see you from his side, then raise a brow at your child as you fancy a reply from him. 

hitori puts his index finger against his chin, pretending to be in a deep thought. daichi and you already know about the new habit he’s picked up and wields whenever he gets the chance to. hitori’s observant and he’s been pretty smart to learn a thing or two from the people around him. daichi always thinks with his hand resting against his chin and now, hitori copies him to do the same too. 

a string of brief moments later he has something to offer to you and your husband, more specifically his reply is aimed at your husband. 

“dada, good morning.” hitori twattles between his words, then smiles ear to ear at his father.

“aww, baby, you’re adorable.” you pinch his cheek and he dimly lobs your arm away as a retort to your touch.

you and your husband raise a brow, staring at one another before you crack up at the newest manoeuver your three year old kid just displayed. 

“now, now, lovebug, that’s new. he’s growing up pretty fast, huh?” daichi makes a notable comment. 

“yes, feels like yesterday when we first held him in our arms.” you say, then kiss your little boy on his head and then plant another peck on his cheek. “mama.” he babbles and kisses you back, inches away from your bottom lip.

“my two adorable beans.” daichi smiles. his words are doused with adoration as he views his little family. 

“we are. aren’t we, my baby?” you take hitori’s hand and swiftly motion it up and down as you talk to him in a gibberish tone. 

“yes, mama.” he responds and chuckles in briefly timed bundles that ebb away. 

hitori suddenly jumps out of your hold and falls into his father’s embrace. he kisses daichi’s cheek. hitori’s giggles keep company to his sporadic hoots when daichi tickles him and fixates him in the middle of his cross-folded thighs. 

you are quick to plug your phone off the charging device and snap a picture of your boys together in a single frame. you make it a point to add it your album full of photographs alike this one; endearing moments with your favourite people, that’s the name. pretty brief, but true to every singular locution used. 

candid moments as this one float into your lives naturally and envelop your heart in a fuzzy. they last a fleeting moment and you can only bottle them up as memories to look back on in the future.  
—  
“okay, my boys, it’s time to start the day.” you scoff to draw their attention to yourself. you glare at them playfully with your arms crossed and a smirk curving along your lips. 

daichi laughs in glee but hitori seems quite confused. 

“yes, yes. it’s time to have some breakfast now, little buddy.” daichi flumps the little guy against his waist before he pulls out of the bed. hitori rests in daichi’s arms. he is still holding onto his crow plushy toy.

“nuh-uh, gargle and brush before heading to the kitchen, daichi, hitori.” you scold the boys. 

“yes, mama, roger that.” daichi shoots his hand into a proper salute, voicing a dead serious tone. hitori observes his father’s action and follows to hoist his tiny hand against his forehead too. 

you and daichi, for the second time this morning, exchange a look that’s become quite familiar around the house in the last few months. every time hitori adapts to a new habit after observing his peers, your heart tickles with some sort of pride and you know daichi’s does too. that’s when you eye your husband, endowed with pride and surprise, and he returns the feelings and your look too.

then, you both chuckle in unison and hitori’s countenance dims down to puzzled.

“huh? mama?” hitori voices, addled, with his thumb stuck in his mouth. daichi takes hitori’s thumb out of his mouth and wipes the drool that is dripping against it using a wet wipe. 

“nothing, baby.” you nod your head at him and you suppose he understands what you mean when he doesn’t question you further, but babbles incoherent words neither you nor daichi can decipher. 

you both shrug at one another in confusion as hitori continues to babble in his father’s hold. a moment later, you hold onto daichi’s arm to support yourself out of the bed, and jump to your feet. 

“let’s go, shall we?” your arm wraps around daichi’s waist. you saunter out of the room alongside the father-son duo. 

“so, what’s on the menu today, chef daichi?” you raise your brow playfully and sneak a look at him from the corner of your eye. 

“pancakes, honeybug.” he answers to your query. 

“with honey?” hitori babbles at daichi with glimmering stars in his brown eyes, when his earshot receives his father mention something about his ideal food for breakfast.

“yes, baby, with lots of honey.” daichi pulls at his cheeks and grins at hitori in assent. 

you quickly rise on your tip toes to kiss hitori on the cheek, then daichi too, because there’s no reason for you to miss out on savouring transient, beautiful moments alike this one, granted to you from time to time. 

mornings at the sawamura household aren’t as much a pragmatic drill as one would suspect, but simple telltales of rebuttal between you and your beloved, and numerous spontaneous cameos by your three year old son. 

in the exact moment the aurum shine of the sun daubs the argentum glory of the moonlit sky, the sawamuras begin a new day. simply, quivering as multiple stints, the events threading the day tread past nonchalantly and the night droops in once again.


End file.
